


191. inferno

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [208]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: Helena and Sarah hang out. They drink some tea. Nothing of particular note happens.





	

**Author's Note:**

> They're very tired from over 200 days of this and we need to let them rest. Or, like, _I_ need to let them rest, since I'm the one who keeps putting them in all these situations.

Helena learned how to build a fire twenty years ago, in the middle of a cleared-out field. Maggie crouched next to her and timed her; on the good days Helena remembers how Maggie’s perfume had smelled. On the better days she forgets it entirely. When she built the fire fast enough Maggie would call her good, and when she didn’t build the fire fast enough – it doesn’t matter. No one is timing her now. The fire crackles, snaps its teeth at her when she holds out her palms in front of it.

The door bangs open and then shuts again and Sarah is there, stomping snow off her boots and unwrapping her scarf. “Cold as a witch’s tit out there,” she says briskly. “Shit, you didn’t have to make a fire, I was gonna make tea.”

“There can be both,” Helena says, and keeps her hands splayed out in front of the warmth. “Three sugars please.”

“You think I don’t know how you take your tea?” Sarah tosses over her shoulder – the words along with her coat, thrown at the coatrack with the sort of carelessness that says that she knows where the coatrack is, and she’s used it before, and she will use it again. “That’s offensive, that is. Gonna hurt my proper British feelings, yeah?”

“Why,” Helena says.

Sarah sighs in an amused sort of way, grabs and fills the kettle. “’cause – British people drink a lot of tea,” she says wryly. “It’s a joke.”

“Oh,” Helena says. She doesn’t really get it, but it’s fine. “Do you know how I take my tea.”

“Three sugars,” Sarah says promptly. “Only it doesn’t matter now, does it, I’ve cheated without meaning to. Ask me later.”

Later. There will be a later.

“Okay,” Helena says. She stands up from the fire, studies it – it’s crackling nicely, it’ll burn for a while without her needing to put anything else on – and wanders over to the kitchen. She pops open the cabinet and grabs the biscuits. “When is _sestra_ -brother coming,” she says.

“He’ll be by in a bit,” Sarah says. “Some drama with the new guy, I don’t want to ask.” She leans against the counter, bounces her hip against it a few times. Helena learned from somewhere that tea kettles don’t boil if you watch them, but she doesn’t know if it’s true and so she doesn’t want to say it. She puts the biscuits down on the counter, instead. Maggie’s perfume had smelled like sharp white flowers, the color yellow-green. She was the one who told Helena about kettles. She used to say all sorts of funny things.

“Does the water not get hot if you look at it,” she says, and immediately hates herself for it. Stupid question.

“Nah, that’s pots,” Sarah says, and then smirks at something Helena doesn’t get before blinking rapidly and saying “oh, no, Helena, it’s – just – it’s just a saying. Like—” she runs a hand through her hair, waves the other one around a little bit while she looks for words. “Waiting for things don’t make ‘em happen faster.”

As if waiting for a cue, the kettle boils. Sarah turns off the stove, pours tea, drops three sugar cubes into Helena’s cup and takes care of her own. Helena wraps her hands around the mug. “Thank you,” she says.

Sarah scoffs a laugh, but it’s more at herself than anything. “Just tea,” she mutters, grabbing the biscuits, sitting down with a _whumph_ on the couch. Helena trails after her and sits down. She doesn't take a biscuit yet.

“No,” she says, “no, thank you for…” she doesn’t know what to say. All of it. Any of it. The snow melting on the rug by the door, and the fire burning just the way it’s supposed to, and Sarah knowing where the coatrack is, and the promise of Felix coming with stories Helena can tease him for.

“Thank you for explaining these words to me,” she says. “I like knowing them.” She blows on her tea, even though she knows it’ll be too hot to drink for a while yet.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Sarah says easily. She looks at her own tea and doesn’t say anything. The silence is soft and warm, like the hand-me-down sweaters Sarah passes Helena’s way sometimes. They’re fine. They’re all fine.

“Felix’ll be here soon,” Sarah says. Pauses. “If he isn’t, I’m gonna hunt ‘im down myself.”

“He will come,” Helena says, because she knows it’s true. She blows on her tea, and watches the fire keep burning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


End file.
